


Ours

by Fighter1Day



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Abandonment, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Assault, Car Accidents, Domestic, Graphic Description, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Self-Love, Trans Male Character, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 00:12:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13670247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fighter1Day/pseuds/Fighter1Day
Summary: Murdoc was always outspoken, rash, reckless. One night he pushes things a little too far and he's left with no choice but to go forward. It's only a matter of if, at 51, he's ready to.





	1. Chapter 1

The door slammed behind him, sealing him in the car, his breath condensing as he panted. His mind turning more than his stomach. His fingers clenching around the steering wheel, ignoring the pain in his knuckles as the cold of the steering wheel seeped into the joints. Leaning forward to press his forehead to the frozen pleather, trying to soothe the pounding in his head.

He screamed, his throat burning. His eyes squeezed shut, holding back tears as he tried to process everything, every word spoken to him. Nails piercing into the material when he finally leaned back, head against the rest as he tried to breathe.

Reaching into his pocket, he dug out his pack, pulling the cigarettes into his lap. He looked down at them, flipping the cartoon top and raising one to his lips with trembling hands. Digging out the lighter, he froze, eyes locked with the woman in the car in front of his own.

Her eyes wide as she looked at him. His face paling when he recognized the pity in her expression, mocking him, like she understood him. Like she knew his secrets and how he felt, knew how this would ruin everything for him, change everything for the worse.

His back straightened as he angrily plucked the cigarette from his lips and replaced it within the carton, refusing to make eye contact with her again as he turned the key, submitting to the challenge in the woman’s gaze. For once he wasn’t right and knew it, he admitted it in the defeated way he threw the pack into the passenger seat. Half tempted to flip her off as he reversed out of the spot, peeling out of the parking lot.

“Better than me,” he hissed, glancing back at the hospital’s road sign, its driveway, almost paranoid the woman would follow him.

He drove silently, radio off as he let his mind wander. Let it accuse him for every error he had made, every drunken decision that made this a happen, digging up every word his father had spat at him.

He growled when his phone rang, interrupting his spiraling. Withdrawing it from his pocket, he was quick to answer it, “Murdoc Niccals, what the fuck do you want?”

A muffled snort. “Is that really what you say?”

Mismatched eyes rolled at the sound of his voice. “You’d better have a good reason for calling, faceache.”

“Just sorta wondering where you went off to with the car, we needed to—”

He stopped listening to flash a dirty look to the driver honking at him, getting back into his lane. Grumbling a few curses as he discarded his phone beside him on the console, tapping for speaker phone and returning his spare hand to the wheel before interrupting the singer, “I missed all of that, enunciate.” He grinned, admitting his wrongs would never be a strong suit of his.  
“We need to get groceries and you’re out with the damn car,” he snapped, twenty years of the same old shit was really pushing the man’s patience.

He barked back at him, eyes focused on the device, “watch your fucking tone with me.”

Another snort, riling him up more before he could even open his mouth to retort.

He didn’t hear him. Eyes wide as he looked back up to the road. His foot lifted from the gas, hovering unsurely over the break, wanting desperately to press it in search of some pseudo control as the car slid across a plane of black ice. A yelp pulled from his throat as the rear end swung hard to the right, just pulling it further from the lane, from the road, from a place Murdoc felt safer. The rough bump of a tire crossing the hill of snow piled against the curb, the crunch of the back fender as it struck the tree, the stillness when everything finally stopped moving lurched him back to reality.

Panting, he looked up, eyes brimming with tears. He couldn’t hear over the pounding of his heart in his ears, gasping for breath, panic still holding him tightly, squeezing his chest tighter with every passing moment. The aching of his hand from the force of his grip on the wheel, knuckles white with the effort, slowly drew him out of the bubble he’d found himself. He glanced down at the console, humming in surprise to find the phone missing, the sound of 2D’s voice still coming through. Adrenaline finally dumped into his circulatory, numbing him, calming him to the sounds of the singer screaming if he was alright, where was he… wait… where was he?

Murdoc let his chin rest against his chest, eyes focused down, his arm limp against his lap, no longer tense around the middle. The tears slowly escaping his eyes as he looked at it, knowing just a moment before it had been protecting his torso, unconsciously moved, reflexively. Instinctively. Hand sliding back up, pressing against his stomach, willing the knot to uncoil.


	2. Chapter 2

He groaned at the feel of hands on him. They were violent, shaking him back into reality, drawing him out from within himself. He choked on his breath as he opened his eyes, trying to move to cough but found himself trapped. His hands shot to his chest, body aching as he clawed at the belt crossing his torso.

“Murdoc, breathe.”

He panted, eyes wide and unfocused as he looked down at his lap. Fingers fumbling as he traced the black line digging into his hips. Mouth hanging open as he jammed his fingers into the red button, trying to release himself, trying to disengage the safety belt. He shouted at it, just angry sounds as he failed to push it down far enough.

A hand gripped his face, pulling his attention up. Black eyes, dripping wet with tears making him still in his struggle. He whined at him, desperate to get out of his seat as he looked past him and saw red and blue flash against the snow. A hand smoothed along his body, tracing the taut polyester belt.

The click of it releasing and it dragging across his belly, the hollow grind of it being retracted into the side of the car reached his ears, and he moved. He wrapped his arms around his neck, heart pounding in his ears as he pulled the man into himself. His chest shaking as he clung to him.

Fingers slid up his body, pressing against each rib and his shoulder blades as they traveled. Arms wrapping tightly around him, a hand against his lumbar and the other in his hair. Words, hushed and weak, reached his ears and he couldn’t piece them together. They were as blurred as his vision as officers approached from behind them.

“Murdoc,” the man whispered, lips brushing his ear, trying to keep his attention. “You’re safe, yea?”

He blinked, nodding slowly. His voice trapped in his throat when the man pulled away, eyes focusing on the dull blue of his hair; he liked blue. His eyes, distant though they were, locked with the man’s as he took a step back. Heart racing, he quickly fumbled up and out of the car to follow him.

His world shrunk to a pin point and he gasped as he collapsed forward into his arms, “I can’t,” he whined.

He felt his body lower to the ground, hands pressing all over his body, guiding him down a stranger’s leg until his bottom was seated firmly on the frozen road. His eyes shutting at the sensation. Lips drawn back in a grimace as he felt bony fingers digging into his arms, he cried out in pain.

The man leaned forward when he opened his eyes again. “You need to go to the hospital, Murdoc.” His voice was breaking, fresh tears dripping down his flushed cheeks.

“No,” he rasped, head falling backwards to rest on an officer’s thigh, “don’t make me go back.” Brows furrowed and he whined weakly at the response, quivering hands wrapping around is body, shielding himself from view.

The man insistent, “Murdoc, you’re not all there; you can’t stand up. We need to get you to the hospital.”

He shook his head, groaning when the world started spinning at the motion. “I’m fine,” he begged, “okay. I’m okay.” His words failing to assure even himself as he hugged his body more firmly.

“Murdoc, for me, go for me and the band. It’ll be okay. I promise everything will be okay if you let them take you.”

Tears welled in his eyes as he coughed, “I don’t want them to know. I promised I was okay,” he confessed, shouting at him. “I’m okay.”

The man shook his head, black eyes narrowing at him in concern, “who did you talk to today?”

Murdoc leaned back against the officer, looking up at him, trying to ignore the question. His arms pulling away from his body to press against the ground, trying to stand again. Hands pressed on his shoulders and he yelped, panting when they kept him on the ground. Radio chatter picking up and scratching at his mind as the officer above him spoke into his radio.

“Were you already at the hospital today?”

He looked around for who asked him that, nodding slowly as he watched a woman approach him. His heart racing as she knelt in front of him and asked him for his name. He whined, trying to stand up again, despite the hands applying weight to keep him down. She repeated herself when he ignored her.

The man in front of him sighed, running a hand through his blue hair, “He’s Murdoc Niccals; he’s fifty-one years old and he’s blood type b negative. He says he was coming back from the hospital.”

She quirked an eyebrow and looked at him, watching his arms tighten around his torso, watching him guard himself from her. “Why were you at the hospital, Mr. Niccals?”

“Murdoc,” he barked at her, not willing to answer her question, eyeing his bandmate as he squirmed in the officer’s hold.

She nodded slowly, “Murdoc. Can you tell me why you went to the hospital today?”

He shook his head, nodding towards the man as he backed away to make room for a gurney. “Don’t make me say it, not in front of him.” He could feel those big black eyes widen and set on his body at his words, squirming when he got closer. Murdoc whined, “please, I can’t.”

He stared at him as the other paramedic joined the woman and guided him onto the gurney. Hands continuously running through 2D's hair, tugging at the blue strands as he watched them buckle him down for transport. “Murdoc what’s wrong? You gotta tell me what’s wrong.” He followed them when they started to wheel him towards the ambulance. “No, wait, slow down.”

The woman turned around once he was hoisted into the vehicle, holding her hands up to keep him back, “sir, it’s important we know what’s going on and if he’s not telling you we need you to drive separately. Can you do that?” She glanced over her shoulder as the bassist squirmed, squinting up at the man attaching a blood pressure cuff to his arm, “for him?”

He nodded meekly, watching Murdoc. Biting his lip, he walked back to the officers to sort out the mess. He took glances over his shoulder as the doors shut and the ambulance drove off, his heart thundering in his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

It was quiet, finally, when the nurse came in to walk him to the sonogram room. He grimaced when he put weight on his feet, body still aching despite the calm in his gut. The nurse, “Kenny” he’d said with a smile, had supported him as he took a few steps. He’d offered him a pair of loose trousers for in the hallway. Murdoc struggled to pull them up on his own with the lingering weakness in his limbs, swearing up and down that he was able to do it on his own.

He’d limped down the hall, keeping the man at arm’s length as he followed his directions. Leaning against the door to catch his breath, he grinned, “I said I could do it, yea?” He chuckled when the nurse shrugged. He rested a hand on his hip, wiping at his mouth with the other as he nodded toward the door. “Guess we better go in?”

When Kenny nodded and moved to open the door his confidence drained. His lips drawn in a thin line across his face. He crossed the room silently, and swatted away the nurse’s hand as he hopped onto the exam table. He toyed with the edge of his gown when the nurse went out to fetch the sonographer.

His eyes flitted between the door and the small swell of fat over his abdomen. Watching the door, he gingerly reached beneath the gown to run the pads of his fingers over it. The room was silent and he parted his lips, words gathering on the tip of his tongue as his attention rested on his core. Palm laying flat against his skin, he shuddered and withdrew his hand. He smoothed down his gown, eyes never leaving his belly.

“How am I supposed to do this?”

He startled when there was a knock at the door. His fingers clenching in the material gathered around his waist. A response was lodged in his throat, tumbling out as random noises. Both the nurse and a sonographer stepped in after a moment. The nurse taking to a corner of the room as the sonographer smiled and introduced herself. She walked him through what she would be doing, asking him to roll up his gown. He was hesitant and she thanked him for his compliance, warning him “it’ll be a little cold” before she applied the gel to his bare skin.

He winced at the noise as the machine powered on. The sonographer smiling through it as she gently pressed the wand to his stomach, eyes focused on the screen before her. Her eyes narrowed as she directed the wand in slow movements along his body, searching for anything.

His heart had stopped, breathe caught in his throat. He tore his eyes away from the screen to watch the wand move, watching it sink into his flesh with a little more pressure.

“There,” she paused the wand as she cheered, gesturing with a curser over the small forms.

Wide, mismatched eyes stared up at the monitor. The grey and black forming lines and shapes. The black bean of a uterus and the small grey blur within. There. Still there. The small mass of cells, growing by the day, by the hour, by the second, was still there despite the stress. Despite the angered wishes and curses he’d screamed in the past two weeks.

He felt relief. Eyelids fluttering shut as he involuntarily sighed. Some barely-there sense of comfort compressing his heart. A desire to smooth his hand where the wand sat and make promises he’d never be able to keep filling him. The thought slowly replaced with dread, with the realization that it was still real. That he was still…

 _No. There’s time to deal with that later_ , he promised himself. Eyes focused on the machine as the sonographer talked to him about the images he was seeing. She drew a small line from end to end of the grey form. A click of a key and the line changed color, her curser pulling away to trace under a few numbers on the screen.

She turned to face him more fully, spare hand pointing out the numbers for him. “About two point ten centimeters long.” Her eyes momentarily glancing back at the screen, almost as if she was studying it, before adding, “you’re about eight weeks along then.”

He let out a shaky breath, eyes taking in every detail they could find. “It doesn’t feel like it’s been that long,” he murmured.

“That’s only about two months,” she patted his shoulder, tapping keys to save shots of the ultrasound.

Murdoc scoffed, rolling his eyes at her, “I’m here on detox; I’ve probably already scrambled it’s brains.”

She bit her lip, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. Hand unmoving as she faced him again. “Watch the screen,” she offered, pointing out the tiny limb buds. Tiny movements visible around her finger. The sonographer smiled when the corner of his lip twitched. “I think you should hold onto some hope, Mr. Niccals.”

He grit his teeth at her comment, glaring up at her from beneath his fringe.

His expression blanked when the machine emitted a new noise. It was a doppler; that thing they’d used on 2D when they were looking for pulses in his ridiculously long legs. He didn’t want to hear it, that hollow, metallic noise when it was searching for an artery. Didn’t want to acknowledge it if it found nothing, if it kept whirring and clicking. Murdoc shut his eyes. His hands were gripping the gown as tightly as they could manage, a small tremor beginning in the heel of his palm at the pressure.

A thudding noise.

Loud.

Repeating.

Not ceasing, it pounded out through the speakers and his heart dropped back into his chest. “No?” He slowly opened one eye, then the other, watching the swells of sound on the monitor.

“Yes, Mr. Niccals, there’s the heartbeat.”

“Shut it off.”

She turned to him, turning down the device volume. “What’s wrong?”

Murdoc tapped her wrist, “off, now,” he barked.

The sonographer stepped back, offering him a few tissues as she removed the wand. He hastily took them and wiped away the excess gel, refusing to make eye contact with her as he sat up and let his gown fall back down. He sat hunched over his body, eyes set on the tiled floor. He exhaled slowly.

He glanced at the nurse, peeking over his shoulder, “so it’s still there?”

The man nodded.

“Everything is just fine?” He snorted, shaking his head as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around himself.

Kenny stepped up to him, offering his hand. Blue eyes narrowed as he looked at how carefully he was holding himself. “Your kit is okay. I need you to look at me for a moment,” he paused and smiled when his pupils adjusted to focus on his face, “good. Now, I want you to take one big, deep breath, just like yesterday.”

Murdoc growled at him, doing as he said. His arms relaxing, forearms resting on his hips. A hand casually, haphazardly, resting against his belly. “How’s that?” he hissed.

“Better. Why don’t we head back to your room?” He nodded towards the door, wanting to speak with him privately. The nurse paused when he saw the panic returning to Murdoc’s face, quickly adding, “you probably want to get a little more rest before heading home tomorrow.”

He smiled bitterly, “I don’t have to do that right?”


	4. Chapter 4

He hadn’t said anything. 2D had knocked on his door and laid out fresh clothes for him: his battered, white turtle-neck; a pair of old jeans; a set of black socks; and he’d even managed to pack a decent thong. He’d left. Taking one long, slow look at him before stepping back into the hallway.

Dressing slowly in the room he’d felt so trapped in, Murdoc felt the excitement bubbling up within his gut. Or was it nausea? He shrugged and slid his arms into the sleeves of the shirt, gently tugging it down his body. His fingers stilling, going to smooth it flat over his abdomen. They lingered there. Small patterns traced into the shirt as he went to leave.

Pausing by the bathroom door, he took a moment for himself and focused on the mirror. Murdoc turned to the side. Looking over his shoulder, then back down at himself, his eyes roamed over his stomach.

He was expecting more. For it to be obvious from the moment it had been confirmed… but it wasn’t. There was no protrusion. No outward sign that there was a kit squirming inside of him. Well, maybe not yet, a few flutters of movement. Not that much. Just enough for him to see the pixels on that monitor inch above the sonographer’s finger. He hummed, clicking his teeth as he set his jaw and left the doorway.

Sighing, he opened the door and took a seat in the wheelchair Kenny had waiting for him. Stuart eyed him, searching for some kind of an explanation. He grimaced and stood next to him, watching Murdoc as if he’d yield and spill out his thoughts at a few sideways glances. The silence felt awkward, the pair left to wait for the nurse to finish sorting chart at the station.

2D coughed, choking on his own spit, groaning at the ache it left in his throat. When Murdoc made no effort to laugh at him, he finally spoke to him, “so why’d you stay here?”

“I…em…” Murdoc’s fingers twitched in his lap, slow and methodically, as he tried to hold back as many details as possible, “I figured I’d trying being sober.” He chuckled. “Finally see how miserable your lives really are,” he added in an attempt to offend the man and silence him.

He shook his head. “That’s not it.” The singer looked back into the room Murdoc had been kept in. “You wouldn’t do that without a reason.” He leaned forward, bent nearly in half as he whispered to him, “you never thought once about the shit you put us through, so I know there’s a reason, a good one.”

His brows furrowed, eyes on his feet. “I have a reason.”

“You know if I can’t get it out of you, Russel will.”

Murdoc rolled his eyes and snorted, “that fat arse isn’t going to get anymore out of me than you can.”

The nurse stacked away the binder and crossed over to them. His arms crossing as he stood in front of Murdoc, glancing down at his feet before back at the man. “You ready to go? Or will you miss me too much?” Smiling when there was a feigned laugh.

“We’d get into too much trouble,” he hissed, adjusting to lean back in the wheelchair. Legs stretching out past the foot rests.

The nurse glanced over at 2D, eyes immediately averting back to Murdoc. He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck before crossing behind his patient. Tapping Murdoc’s knee, he got him to put his feet in the rests. Kenny guided the pair down the hall to the elevator, joking with them when he saw Murdoc struggling to remain in the chair.

They’d talked, just the two of them, numerous times in Murdoc’s two weeks. He’d listened to every word that had escaped the man when he was begging for relief from the pain, every promise. He had faith that he’d follow through on everything he could remember. He had good reason to.

That despite his fears Murdoc was strong enough to get through on his own.

Murdoc’s body grew increasingly stiff in the chair as they neared the lower level. Kenny patted his shoulder, leaning down to whisper to him the affirmations they had worked on. He was relieved when he could see Murdoc mouth them, when he relaxed back into the chair, when his panicked scent faded.

The trio grew quiet as they left the building, Stuart leading them to the car and to Russel. The man remaining in the vehicle when the singer opened front passenger-side door for Murdoc. The drummer watched the other man stand from the chair.

Kenny grinned, taking his hand when Murdoc offered it. “I don’t ever want to see you again, right?”

The bassist beamed, nodding in agreement, “If you keep working there,” he gestured towards the upper floors of the hospital, “you’ll never see me again.” He released the man’s hand and sunk down into the leather seat, attention still on the nurse as he murmured, “promise,” with an honesty the band hadn’t heard but on a few sparse occasions.

Stuart watched the man leave, shutting the door roughly. He waited until the sliding glass doors sealed and sat behind Russel. His eyes choosing instead to focus on Murdoc as he called up to the drummer, “he isn’t gonna tell any of us why he chose, “he emphasized the word with exaggerated air quotes, “to withdrawl.”

White eyes locked with black as Russel glanced back at 2D. He sighed, shifting the gears into drive, “he doesn’t have to tell us.”

An exasperated groan was his response. The singer leaned back against the seat, glaring forward.

“Eh, thanks Russ.” Murdoc chuckled, arms wrapped around his midsection as he reclined in the seat.

Stuart spoke up again, “whaddya mean he doesn’t have to tell us. ‘Course he does!” He crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s never had to explain himself.”

“This isn’t the time, ‘D.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Depiction of non-accidental miscarriage.

_He leaned forward, curled up in the bath. Begging for some comfort, some peace, some rest from the pain. The water increasingly stained as he sobbed. Everything ached. Every part of him felt broken._

_He bit his lip to stifle a cry as a cramp dug it’s claws through the meat of his belly. The gentle swell quivering as he struggled to breathe through the tears._

_“No, please,” he murmured. Fingers dipping down between his legs to press against himself, trying to hold himself together. “Don’t leave me.”_

_The water had gone cold a long time ago. He didn’t dare turn it back on, couldn’t risk to make any more noise and alert Hannibal to his situation. He didn’t dare provide himself anymore relief from the agony._

_His heart racing in his chest as a knock sounded from the other side of the door. Wide eyes watching as the door opened, his older brother stepping in, eyes tearing him apart. “Hannibal,” he whispered, wincing at another cramp, trying to act strong._

_He grunted as he kneeled down by the tub. His older brother taking one glance at the water, eyes just barely widening at its shade, startled. He reached into the water, pulling Murdoc’s hands away from himself._

_“Why did you think you could get away with this?”_

_Murdoc didn’t answer. His tears drying up in his brother’s presence. Eyes clenched shut at another contraction, his wrists jerking at the sensation of more clots escaping his body. He grits his teeth, looking down at the water, freezing. He tugged his wrists free from his brothers grasp to reach for them, fresh tears flooding his vision. Screams erupted from him as Hannibal wrenched his arms behind his back._

_Hannibal hissed at him, “it’s for your own good.” He shook him, waiting for his sobs to quiet down before continuing, “it’s the only kindness he’s ever going to show either of us.”_

Murdoc startled awake, body shaking. His gut tangled in knots as he leaned over the edge of the bed. He coughed, reaching for the bin he’d placed beside the bed, panting as he hunched over it. Eyes watering as he emptied himself into it. One hand cupped the plastic, the other resting over the kit, his kit.

 _His_ kit.

He groaned, resting back against the pillows. His head rocked back and pressed against them. Murdoc’s eyes drifted down to lock on his hand, to his abdomen just beneath it. A shaky exhale escaping from between his lips as he gave in to his heart and outlined small circles into his skin.

“I’m here,” he grunted. His eyes quickly occupying themselves around the room, his room, nearly 5000 kilometers away from that cesspool.

Away from that hell that had stolen his humanity.

Away from the monster who’d stolen what little he had garnered, smashing it to pieces before his eyes.

His stomach flipping as fear flooded his system when he pictured it all again. Huddling over the bin, both arms wrapping tight around it. He held in tears at the memory. At the image of them being left in that filthy bath when Hannibal had dragged him out and locked him in his room.

A knock on the door and his heart stopped, frozen with fear as his mind blanked. He didn’t respond and slowly, cautiously, the door cracked open. “Murdoc?” The voice called, so much softer than he’d been addressed all those years ago.

He stared at the door, confused. Watching as a figure stepped in, gingerly shutting the door behind them. His breathe caught in his throat as they turned approached his bed.

Voice catching in his throat as he whispered, “Hannibal?”

The light from his neon cross finally illuminated enough of the persons face and he collapsed against the bed. His hand loosening enough on the bucket to set it on the ground beside the bed. Murdoc sat up, quickly wrapping a blanket up around his midsection as she stepped closer. Black hair pulled tight in a ponytail, it bobbing when she climbed onto his bed. He let her sit beside him, let her rest her head on his shoulder.

“What’s going on, Muds?”

He brought his hand up and around her shoulder, rocking her gently against his side. His focus was anywhere but on her as he responded to her, “I’m fine, promise love.”

She shook her head. “I can see it.” She peeked up at him, cheek smooshed against his shoulder. “It’s in your eyes. You’re having nightmares again,” she murmured, eyes locked on his own, despite the man’s distant gaze.

He grinned, risking a look at her as he spoke, “Noodle, I’m okay, really.” He held up his free hand, “honestly couldn’t be better,” his voice hushed as he lied.

“You don’t wake up early unless you have to escape something.”

The bassist didn’t respond. He quietly chewed on his cheek. She wasn’t wrong, and he could only lie to her so much. He sighed when he felt her gaze burning into his face.

“Murdoc,” she whispered, “what’s haunting you now?”

“The same memories that you brought up when you showed up in your box,” he answered.

Noodle fell silent. She could remember hearing him screaming when he’d woken up in the studio, a sound that normally consumed by the garage. He would calm down when she’d wander in and wake him, his eyes frantic until they found her. Strong arms wrapping around her when he sunk to the floor and apologized for waking her. His eyes had always been so full of longing, so desperate when he’d sit her in his lap and run a hand through her tangled hair. He’d hold her until she’d fall back to sleep, head against his chest, before taking her to her room and tucking her back in.

Her attention focused on their feet, him offering a blanket to cover them. She sighed, “Why did I bring them up?”

He looked down to her, heart heavy. “Because,” he paused, “because you became my daughter.”

Noodle furrowed her brows, looking out at the filthy room. Murdoc tried to continue, heart heavy as he tried to explain himself, no words feeling quite right on his tongue. A hand pressed against his knee.

“Are you trying to say…” she trailed off, stopping herself before she could say it. Hand coming up to seal over her open mouth. “Murdoc?”

He chewed his cheek for a moment, letting himself panic before he considered who was sitting beside him. He finally nodded, taking her hand in his. His voice cracking as he tried to admit it not only to himself but to her, half formed words making it through trembling lips. Murdoc took his hand, reaching into his pillow to pull out the little photo when his words failed him.

She gingerly took it when it was offered to her. “What is this?”

“You’ve never seen one of these?”

Noodle shook her head, sitting up off his shoulder, uncertain about what she was seeing. She glanced up at him before holding it closer to her face, eyes squinted in the low light. She tried to make sense of the blobs of black and grey. When that didn’t work she tried reading the numbers and words in the corners.

He reached between her and the paper, tapping it with his finger. “That’s an ultrasound, Noodle.” Her brows rose as she recognized the word. He choked on his explanation, struggling to find the right words when he saw her understand, “that’s my ultrasound. That little, bean-shaped blur is my kit.”

She adjusted against him, wrapping herself around him. “This isn’t your first one, is it?”

He didn’t respond, didn’t need to. She held him, thinking back to all the times he had protected her. Every effort he put into her becoming strong and able to defend herself from the world, from the industry, from every person who would ever put themselves above her. He’d done everything in his power to be a father to her. The father he had never been.

“He doesn’t know, does he?”

Murdoc looked back up to the door, almost expecting it to open when he shook his head.

“Do you want him to?”


	6. Chapter 6

“You can’t tell me you don’t see it,” she chided Murdoc as she positioned him in front of the mirror.

His eyes following his arms to his hands, both resting calmly below his bump. Hands cradling it from underneath. The slight distention barely obvious when you considered the beer belly he’d sported fifteen years ago. He snorted, at least he’d thought so.

“I thought you wanted to keep this quiet?”

Murdoc nodded, rolling his eyes, “I do, Noodle.” Sighing, he ran his palm over the bump, taking comfort in the sensation. “I just figured they’d think I’m getting fat.”

Noodle shook her head, biting down a laugh as she looked him in the eye. “You’re not though. You’re pregnant, and you still think you can pretend to be an alpha; you can’t anymore.” She turned away from him, thinking.

“You think a kit’s gonna stop me?” he snapped back at her.

She nodded, gesturing to his body as she tried to talk to him, “you can’t tell me that you think you can hide this from Russel and 2D for the whole thing?”

He felt his face flush, hot panic crossing his mind as he pictured how disappointed Russel would be in him. He tried to imagine how confused ‘Dents would be, but the image wouldn’t come together.

“What do you want me to do? March down to the breakfast table and start planning a shower with ‘em?”

Noodle narrowed her eyes at him. “They’ll find out, Murdoc. I just figured you’d want to have control over when they do.”

The bassist crossed his room and collapsed onto his bed, curling around his abdomen, chin tucked against his breast bone. His breathing was heavy and angry as he stared down at his kit. Hands pressing more firmly against the skin, obscuring his belly from view. His eyes fell shut as he breathed in.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

He groaned as he exhaled, repeating it over and over until he was ready.

He lazily patted the space beside his head, welcoming her to join him again. Murdoc didn’t look to face her. His nail picking at the seam of her jeans when she sat down.

“What did you want to do?”

The bassist glanced up to her. After a pause, he adjusted himself to lay his head on her thigh, eyes focused up to her own as he allowed himself to be vulnerable, “I don’t want to tell them.”

Noodle broke their eye contact, looking around to the floor of the room. Her hand coming up against her lips. Fingers running back and forth against them as she tried to respond to him.

“I lost my first kits, Noodle,” he confessed, continuing in order to fill the silence, “they’d think I should lose this one too.”

The sadness in her eyes made him turn away. He didn’t need that, didn’t want that.

He just wanted this, this tiny kit, his kit…

Her hand gently began to run through his hair, fingertips giving him soothing, occasional pressure as he waited for her. The guitarists words slow to come. “Nobody here would wish that for you. They may be upset, but they’d know better than to ever think something like that.”

Murdoc grinned, refusing to look her in the eye. “I’m a monster. I nearly killed my guitarist and my singer.” He paused, raising a finger as he pointed out, “on several occasions.”

“Murdoc…”

“No.” He gave a soft sigh. “No, you know how much I’ve fucked up.”

She didn’t push it any further. Instead she let silence fall, watching him as he adjusted his head against her so that he could focus on his bump. Noodle watched him, watched hands smooth up and down the swell, and took it all in. She dwelled on his fears, more of her own raising as she thought about what he’d confided in her.

“Murdoc?”

He hummed.

She bit her lip as she paused, waiting until mismatched eyes slowly looked up to meet hers. “How’d you lose your first kits?”

The bassist froze up at the question. His shoulders grew tight as he tensed. “This isn’t something you’ll want to explore, love.”

She nodded, letting her hand rest against his shoulder. She gave him a chance to readjust but didn’t stop to consider his comfort when she asked, “did you want them.”

“I loved them,” he murmured.

Noodle leaned down to look at him, catching his eyes once more. They were wet with tears and immeasurably sad. He didn’t want to continue, and she could see how badly he wanted her to stop. She tsk’ed and glanced back out at the room.

“I didn’t question that, Murdoc. I asked if you wanted them.”

“What are you looking for?” He groaned as he sat back up, eyes shutting as he remembered all of it over again. “Do you really want to listen to this? You really want to open this for discussion?”

She nodded, “I think it’ll be good for you.”

Murdoc grimaced. His eyes opened and tears escaped down his cheeks. He chuckled at his momentary weakness, blaming the kit for being so emotional. “Noodle, this wouldn’t be good.”

She went to speak and he interrupted her.

“For either of us,” he added. Eyes hard as they drifted away from his belly to stare forward at the floor.

“So, you wanted them then? Why did you give them up?”

Murdoc’s eyes were wide open as he sputtered. His heart dropping from his chest as those words parted from her lips. “Whaddya mean give them up?” Tears streaming down before he could stop them. His hands going protectively to his kit, cupping it with both hands. “D’you think I’m all worked up about losing them if I just went and…”

He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t imagine it. They had been his kits. They’d been his ticket to love and a real family, even if he wasn’t the one receiving the attention.

Noodle nodded, offering, “I would be.” Her hands reached forward to press against his shoulders, her sign that she’d be going in the hug him.

The bassist shook her off, head hanging as he tried to stem the tears.

His voice was soft, broken as he finally confided in her, in somebody, “I had never been happier. I was seeing this guy who treated me half decent. He took advantage of me when I was with him; I had a cycle start when I was at his house and I caught.” He chuckled darkly, “he didn’t want anything else to do with me. Swore I was loose.”

“So you were alone? Is that—”

He shook his head, hand gripping around her knee to silence her.

“I kept them. _That’s_ why he left. I wouldn’t take to money to make things ‘go back to normal,’ so he split. He left me with what I needed, what I thought I needed.

“They were healthy and the nurse had smiled so warmly when she used that machine, the one for heartbeats.” His voice raising into an annoying falsetto, “’do you hear that?’” He smiled bitterly. His posture slumping. “It was while I was at the appointment that Dad rummaged through my shit and found a sonogram.”

Murdoc stood up, arm out behind him as he steadied himself and waited for the dizziness to fade. He slowly crossed the room then, heading toward his shelves and glancing through them. Reaching forward the bassist pulled down his tattered Satanic bible, flipping through it lazily by the shelf before returning to Noodle’s side.

“It’s rubbish you know?” He mused.

She quirked an eyebrow, reaching for the book when he offered. “What is?”

On the page was a carefully scribbled square of black. Soft greys had been painted on but were cracking with age and wear. His finger pointed out the two most central blurs of grey.

“Those two kits, they didn’t stand a chance; and this is all I have left of them. That rotten pig fucker waited by the door for me to come home. Sweet Satan did he have it in for me…” He snorted, “beat the shit out of me. He beat me so hard I thought I would finally be free of that hell.”

“Murdoc…”

He growled, “you wanted to hear it. You thought I’d harm a kit, one of my kits.” His eyes were dark as he stood over her, face twisted in disgust as he spat, “you wanted to ‘talk about it’ so we are.”

She looked away, uncomfortable and unwilling to hear anymore. Honest as she whispered, “I didn’t think anybody could be so cruel.”


	7. Chapter 7

Murdoc hummed, hips rolling back against the sheets as he adjusted in bed. His legs dragging against the silk as he pulled the comforter up to tuck beneath his chin, separating his body from view. Hiding it away beneath the layers.

A hand slipped down again. The movement was almost hesitant as his palm gently rested above his abdomen. He closed his eyes for a moment, shutting out the outside world. _It’s just us._ He purred softly at the thought; the sound rumbling from the back of his throat as he laid there. _Just me._

There was no light. The soft hum of the neon cross made non-existent when he’d finally unplugged the damn thing. It had been the last one. First he’d tucked away the candles, wrapping them gently in cloth before sealing them in a drawer with his silver. His curtains had been drawn shut next, with careful attention to keep out any slivers of midday sun. After crossing his room he’d switched off the overhead light, the single bulb darkening the room.

This was what he needed. His hand rubbing along his belly as he appreciated the feeling, the isolation he’d created for himself. This was a moment just for him. For them.  
He was tucked, warm and content, into his bed. Bare as his hand smoothed along his body, always returning to cup the swell where his kit rested. His face pressed into the pillow as he breathed in the scent of the man who’d given him his chance.

The pillowcase had been stolen, taken from the laundry before it’s absence could be missed. It had been a moment of weakness. It was a need that he couldn’t deny himself when he’d recognized the opportunity.

He huffed against the cotton, breathing in as much as he could. Murdoc shivered when he felt his body responding to the man’s scent. He felt himself relax against the sheets while he crawled forward to wrap an arm around the pillow to pull it ever closer.

_We don’t need him_ , he mused.

His hand shifted, feeling around the swell and tracing circles into the skin. He wanted to be closer, to cradle the tiny kit in his arms and promise everything to it.

The words bubbled up from within and got to the tip of his tongue before they were lost. They were promises every parent had and would make. Confessions of love that had been uttered a million times and more. Anything that came to mind soured at his lips as he tried to find the perfect words for his kit.

He stilled when he heard a knock at the door, slumping down against the sheets. He didn’t want to deal with this. Didn’t want anybody else speaking until he had the chance to do so first. Murdoc sat up when the door was pushed against, the sheets slipping down to pool around his middle.

His phone buzzed against his hand and he picked it up slowly, grimacing at the notification. Noodle’s message ignored as he put the phone behind a pillow, as he laid back against the sheets again. He’d eat later, when the others were gone and he could wander downstairs in silence.

He nuzzled into the pillow again, eyes on the door while he waited for her to decide to get the key or to leave him be. Time passed slowly, silently. When his eyelids grew heavy he decided she would not be making an attempt to invade his space, his moment.

He needed _this_. To lay wrapped in this place, in this time, and just be with his kit. He purred down to it, mind working back to his original thoughts. His eyes drifting down the comforter, watching his hand as it traced patterns into his skin.

Any and all efforts continuously being made to get closer to his kit.

He opened his mouth, sighing as he repositioned himself on the bed. Before he could stop himself, words tumbled from his parted lips, blurring and stumbling together, “’m sorry you’ve just got me.”

His cheeks burned as both hands rushed to hold his belly. Murdoc curled around himself, unwanted tears welling in his eyes as the words repeated themselves over and over in his mind.

Memories being fished out of his past as he tried to justify his own statement. It _had_ to be like this: just him and his kit. Nobody would want them if they knew. Nobody could love his kit like he did, want to protect it like he was trying so hard to do…

He’d leave, too.

A tear crossed the bridge of his nose, falling to the sheets as that night rushed back to fill his mind. One of his hands lifting to cover his mouth, muffle the sounds and hide them from his kit, as he held back cries. As he tried to hurriedly suppress the pain that came with those memories, his words, and the frustration on his face the last time he’d seen him.

Murdoc pressed his face into the pillow, brows furrowing at the scent of his kit’s father. In his moment of fear, he knocked it from the bed and rejected the man’s scent before his mind could twist it against him.

His heart stopped when he felt it again. His eyes shutting as he began to stroke along the swell of his abdomen. Murdoc held his breathe, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he waited for the sensation to repeat itself.

“I’ll stop then,” he offered, voice still shaking with the burden of those memories.

Another little flutter, a flip maybe. He smirked, eyeing the top of his curve over the sheets.

He purred as he adjusted in the bed, propping up his head on a bent elbow. “D’you like when I talk to you?” His free hand gently tugging down the layers so he could look down at his belly. Pale, stretched lines arching along his hips, a smile curling up the corners of his lips. “Anything you want,” he murmured.

He rose up, sitting on the edge as he adjusted hand smoothing along his thigh before he used it to push up and off the bed. He took his time to walk over to the windows, opening just one. It would be just enough as he turned away and went to his dresser. Opening the middle drawer, he displaced the mess of clothing until he felt the smooth cover of a book.

Withdrawing it, he pressed it to his chest. The front cover cool against his skin. Once he sealed the drawer shut, or mostly shut with a sleeve or two dangling out, he went back to the bed. He curled up where the sunlight crossed its covers, setting the book down amongst them.

He smiled, hand pressing against his bump. “This book,” he stroked a few fingers affectionately across its title, _Growing Up_ , “was meant for you. It’s waited thirty-six years to be read.”

Murdoc paused as he felt his throat start to close at the lie he’d just let roll off his tongue. It had been read before, hushed whispers in the dead of night as he read it by starlight. It had been purchased with the hopes that two tiny sets of hands would turn its pages. It had torn his heart apart when he found it, unscathed, in it’s hiding place after his dreams were stolen from him.

“All these years and now I get to read it to you.”


	8. Chapter 8

_“Get up!”_

_He yelped as his door slammed open, quickly emerging from the covers to stand by his bed. He stood perfectly still. His eyes were focused on his father’s shoes as he stepped into the room._

_“Just because I didn’t tell you not to do something doesn’t mean you can do it,” he barked down at him. Hands clenching into fists and rapidly relaxing. “How long were you seeing him?”_

_He didn’t respond, his head hanging down as he waited for him to continue._

_Sebastian coughed in his face. “Did he say pretty things to you?” He waited for a response he didn’t want before continuing, “did he lie to you, tell you that you’re not a mistake, that you’re perfect?”_

_He didn’t want to admit it but nodded slowly in answer._

_“You thought he loved you? That anyone could?” He laughed, loud and sharp, nails digging into his left shoulder as he bent down close to him. “If your own family hates you, how could anybody else want you?”_

_His rotten breath made him feel nauseous, his body still sensitive. Thin fingers slowly went to his belly, gripping the shirt there in an attempt to keep his stomach contents where they belonged; but they were pried away quickly. His hands tossed to the side as his father’s face scrunched up in anger._

_“You’re weak,” he snarled, brows furrowed as he shoved a dirty, green finger in his face. “You never fail to be a disappointment.”_

_He stood helpless when Sebastian stood up, returning to his full height. Couldn’t find the strength to retaliate when the man sneered down at him.  
“Your mother was right to abandon you; if only I’d done the same. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with this mess you’ve tried to make.”_

“You gotta tell him.”

Murdoc startled, eyes wide when the sentence brought him sharply back into reality. Hurtled him back from those memories that had become as much a part of his life as morning sickness had.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes before glancing back across the kitchen table where Noodle sat picking at her cuticles. “I don’t have to tell _him_ anything.”

“They’ve both been asking about you,” she replied.

He shrugged, going back to typing a book title into his Amazon search bar. His voice flat as he offered, “it’s nice to hear they’re concerned, but they don’t need to be.”

She shook her head, eyes focused on him, silent, until he looked up to her for her response. “You care enough about whatever response you’re going to get from them that you’ve totally flipped your days and your nights.”

Noodle pushed back from the table when he snapped, “don’t you remember, in the beginning it was the same way.”

“You have me sneak you out of the house for your appointments.”

He chewed at the inside of his cheek, nodding slowly. “Alright, you have me there.”

Standing from the table, she crossed to him. Hands slowly pressing against his shoulders as she leaned over to peek at his screen. “You aren’t going to be able to sneak a kit around the house.”

Murdoc watched her from the corner of his eye. His voice hushed to a whisper as he admitted, “I won’t have to.”

She smiled softly at his answer, rubbing at his shoulders. “I’m so glad. You’ll be able to get this weight off your chest and focus solely on getting ready for your kit.”

He sucked in a breath. “No. Noodle…” He reached up to her hands, nudging them away as he went to stand. “I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? I haven’t seen you in weeks, and suddenly you’re going to leave?”

Noodle’s heart dropped when she could see the way Murdoc’s face twisted, a mix of anger and fear that she hadn’t seen in years. She looked over his shoulder to the doorway, eyes falling on the man standing in the doorway. Taking a last glance at the bassist, she left Murdoc’s side to shoo Stuart away. She pressed a hand against his shoulder, murmuring that now wasn’t the time, but he shook her off.

“No.” His eyes hard as he stared at Murdoc’s back. “I want to know what’s going on.”

Noodle tried again, trying to press him out the door. “He’s not ready to talk about it.”

Stuart rolled his eyes, “I don’t care that he’s “not ready;” he’s been acting weird since he hit that damn tree.”

Murdoc cleared his throat, fighting the urge to rest his hand against his belly as he spoke, “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“You do. If you are planning on leaving you have to tell me and Russ what’s going on,” he bit back, taking a few steps toward the table, toward Murdoc. “What have you relapsed? Been too ashamed to admit it?”

He shook his head, sucking in his lower lip as he looked down to his kit. His heart racing as he felt tears well in his eyes. Giving in he smoothed his hand just above where his kit rested, taking comfort in his little one. He glanced over his shoulder, offering, “I can’t drink.”

Stuart didn’t stand down, voice raising as he asked, “then what? Are you sick?” He rolled his eyes, “are you dying?” He asked, more as a challenge than a concerned question.

Noodle pressed forward and wrapped her arms around Murdoc when he stared to turn, keeping him still. “This is really none of your business.”

Murdoc shook his head, patting her arms until she loosened them. “Actually, it is.” He stepped away from her as he took a deep breath and faced Stuart.

Stuart’s brows rose in question, eyes narrowed as he glared forward. It took a moment to look away from the worn look on Murdoc’s face. His eyes darted across his body before stilling to stare at his middle. All the anger leaving his body as he recognized what was standing before him.

His voice small as he asked, “This is what you’ve been hiding?”

Murdoc nodded silently, cupping the swell with both hands. Eyes cast onto the floor, just in front of 2D’s feet as he waited for his response. Waited for the theatrics he’d been fearing, been avoiding at all costs.

It took a moment, his mind scattered as he tried to find the logic for why Murdoc had felt the need to isolate. Taking in the pained way that Noodle looked between them with, hands rushing to comfort him, and thinking on the way the bassist had made it clear that he had the right to know, it slowly dawned on him.

He took a step back, watching the way Murdoc’s eyes squeezed shut. “This…That’s?”

Murdoc nodded calmly despite the panic welling inside as he watched another man step away from him. After all these years _it was the same_. He couldn’t hold his tongue when the same words bubbled to his lips, “it’s yours.”

“Mine?”

“Yours…”

“Mine.”

The only other sound he heard was an angry sigh and the creak of floorboards as he left. As he walked away. As he was left to deal with the kits… kit… on his own. He crumpled into Noodle, not strong enough to hold back the tears that fell as he sunk into the memory he had now relived.


	9. Chapter 9

Murdoc tried to keep his head down, hide amongst the other parents in the clinic. He was out of place. He sat surrounded on all sides by younger couples. Several alphas attending to their partners as they waited.

He could feel it when they took glances at him. Silently dissecting him as he waited. They were always looking for a mark, some kind of indication that he belonged with somebody. Some sign that he had somebody to share this kit with.

But they never found it. They would resort to staring when he wouldn’t look up, trying to figure out who he was. They wanted a story, and all they could do was fabricate one suitable to their needs. A few of them had muttered unsavory names as they shifted seats and others had taken pity on him and leaned in to ask him about the kit.

He was a grown man. He could handle a few nosy parents thinking poorly of him; it had no affect on him what they believed when he’d never see them again. The pitying mother getting up from her chair to settle back down beside him was another story.

She smiled at him, taking another glance to his belly, before asking, “is this your first?”

Murdoc refrained from rolling his eyes, biting back an attitude when he lied and nodded slowly.

The woman offered her hand to him in introduction. The smile never leaving her face when he didn’t take it. “This is my second.”

He didn’t respond. His eyes focused down on the carpet as he waited for his name to be called.

She shifted her weight, sitting closer to him as she smoothed her hand across her belly. “How far along are you now?”

“Twenty-four weeks.” He glanced over at her before continuing, “and before you ask, I don’t know what I’m having.”

She giggled, “I didn’t know with my first one either. Since we already have everything for a little girl we had to check this time; we’re lucky that we’re having another one.”

He nodded, offering, “that must be a relief.”

“I can imagine it must be different for you.”

Murdoc’s brow furrowed in question, confused by her statement. “What do you mean?”

Her smile widened, “well you’re Murdoc Niccals. You can get whatever your kit needs, whenever they’ll need it.”

“And I suppose you want an autograph?” he snapped. “Maybe a selfie?”

Shaking her head, the woman relaxed into her chair. “That wouldn’t be fair to you.” She bit her lip, looking out on the room. “I just saw you sitting here curled in on yourself, like you don’t belong… I thought…”

His heart clenched in his chest and he looked down to his kit, he _didn’t_ belong here. “You thought wrong,” he growled. “I’m alone because I want to be.” _Because I have to be._

“I can see your eyes, Murdoc. You’ve always been a great liar, but your eyes give it away.”

He stood up, glaring down at her, fists clenched tightly at his sides as he barked, “you don’t fucking know me.”

“Mr. Niccals?”

He jerked his head to look at the nurse. His eyes wide as he took in the silent waiting room, all eyes on him, on his kit. He grit his teeth and crossed the room to the nurse, following her through the door to the back of the clinic. He relaxed as they walked down the hall and around the corner.

“Caught you just in time, huh?” The nurse chuckled as she looked up to him.

He grimaced, nodding in answer. “They normally don’t make it personal if they try to take care of me.”

The nurse pointed to the scale and waited for him to stand on it before pressing it on and collecting his weight in both kilograms and pounds. She shrugged as she guided him down the rest of the hallway to room 12, “I don’t know why they always come up and bother you when you’ve got that sourpuss face on.”

Murdoc shook his head, “can’t we make an arrangement to where I don’t have to wait?”

“When we tried that you didn’t show up on time.”

He waved his hands, “I told you lot it wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t get out of bed.”

She shook her head, “I don’t doubt you; I’ve had morning sickness.” She glanced at him as she reached in a drawer for a paper tape measure. “But I don’t make the rules.” She sanitized her hands and went to the computer, unlocking it and pulling up his chart. “What I can do, is get you out of here quickly.”

He pressed his hand against his swell, holding back a smile at a movement. “That’d be nice,” he admitted lazily, more focused on his kit than the nurse.

She turned back to him, “we have the same old questions for you, we need to measure that belly of yours, and it looks like you’re due for a couple blood samples. Do you have anything you’re worried about?”

Murdoc nodded, looking over to her, “I haven’t got a call back for my results from the amnio?”

She pivoted in her chair, humming as she scrolled through his chart. With a nervous smile, she glanced back at him, “it looks like she’ll be going through it with you today.”

He exhaled, running a hand over his bump as his nerves sparked. “Does that mean something’s wrong?” He tried to no avail to swallow down the lump in his throat as he thought through everything he’d read in the past few weeks.

The nurse was quick to shake her head, going to him and having him lay back on the table, “it just means she likes to talk through these results face to face, especially since you’re past twenty weeks now.”

“What if something’s wrong?” he mused, becoming overwhelmed as he dwelled on it.

She reached for his hand, “we’re here to help you through it if, _if_ , something is wrong.” The nurse squeezed her grip a little tighter, watching tears well in his eyes. “And it may not be your fault if there is something wrong, things just happen this way sometimes.” She took a moment, reaching down to rub his shoulder with her other hand. “I want you to breathe for me. Take a few deep breathes and we’ll get started with taking some measurements.”

-

Noodle sat on the front step, watching the occasional car pass by. She clutched her phone in her hand, waiting for him to call and tell her that everything was fine. Everything had to fine.

Because nothing was.

The house had fallen silent. Now everybody was sneaking around and avoiding one another. The band torn apart by who sided with who. Russel was trying to stay out of it, too tired after years of bickering between the other two to care. Stuart had snapped at her the last time she’d seen him, trying to draw lines to separate himself from her because of the connection she’d forged with Murdoc.

Murdoc came out less than before. He hid away on his own, deluded in thinking it would protect his kit to isolate. He had come to fear the others, only allowing Noodle to be near him. She was exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. She was the only one who could see him breaking and was the only one trying to hold him together.

She stilled when she heard the door click open, turning to look up at 2D. His eyes were wide as if he’d been caught doing what he shouldn’t. His grip on the cigarette dangling from his lip tightened as his lips pulled into a tight, flat line. He turned to leave and Noodle stepped of the stairs to grab his wrist.

“Stuart, please,” she spat as she tried pulling his arm to bring him back outside.

He let her. Standing on the little bit of porch for a moment, reaching into his pocket for a lighter before looking down to her. He didn’t shut the door, he didn’t intend to stay.

“What do you want?”

She swallowed, “you need to give him a chance.”

He snorted, taking a drag from his cigarette as he looked out toward the road, “I don’t have to do anything.”

“You don’t even know his reasons; you won’t even step into the same room as him to hear them.”

He shook his head, rolling his eyes at her, “because I know why he’s doing it.”

She huffed out a breath through her nose, watching him exhale coolly. “Then what’s his reason, 2D?”

“Because it’s his way of finally owning me. Running me over, gassing me, and kidnapping me wasn’t enough for him.”

Noodle gasped at his answer, “you’re such an asshole. How can you be so arrogant?”

2D shrugged his shoulders, “I’m right. You may be on _his_ side, but you know I’m right.”

She stepped past him, slamming the door shut as she walked him back against the railing, “you don’t know a damn thing.” Her brows were furrowed as she glared at him, heart aching as she opened the floodgates. “This isn’t his first kit. He tried to bury that pain, that loss, and move on, but because you two are fucking idiots he’s gotten a second chance.

“It doesn’t matter that it’s yours. You’re ruining this for him because you think he’s trying to manipulate you. You’re so wrong, 2D. He just wants this kit.”

She could feel the hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she leaned away from him. “I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but I’m not going to let you destroy something he’s worked so hard for because you’re too stupid to talk to him.”

He stared down at her, eyes wide at everything she’d said, trying to take it all in. He sucked in a breath around the cigarette, taking it from his lips to flick away the ashes.

“What happened with the first kit?”

She looked nervously to her phone, “they were taken from him. His dad beat him until he lost them.”

The wind left Stuart’s sails when all the pieces slid into place, he fell silent. He puffed on his cigarette, refusing to make eye contact with her. He leaned against the railing, looking out at the next lot as he murmured, “that’s why he didn’t tell anybody.”

“He knows you don’t want kids. He nev-…”

“If I had known,” he barked at her. “I would never make him do that.”

Her phone began to vibrate and she quickly answered it, pressing it to her ear. Stuart bent down, tapping her shoulder as he mouthed for her to put it on speaker. She shook her head, answering Murdoc when he asked if she was there. His brow furrowed and he reached for the phone instead. She tried to grab it back but as soon as he made the switch, he held it out of reach.

“They said I’m not gaining enough weight. Can you believe it; I’m not fat enough,” Murdoc’s voice crackled through her phone’s speakers, his laughter soon following.

She grimaced at Stuart when he snorted. “You need to stop hiding in your room and start coming out to eat. Everybody knows now.”

There was a long pause before he spoke, “you know I don’t like the way he looks at me.”

“Well the kit comes first doesn’t it?”

Murdoc hummed in agreement, “S’pose you’re right. He’s fine though. Everything’s normal.”

She could see the way Stuart’s arm lowered, relaxing, at his words. “Is that just from the visit or did they have your results back yet?”

“It’s both. When she was talking to me about the chromosomes she let it slip that it’s a boy.”

She smiled softly, so glad to know that after everything Murdoc could relax about the kit’s health. “Are you happy with a boy?”

He chuckled, “I love him. I’ll let you go so I can come home, we need to rest soon.”

Noodle nodded, taking the phone when Stuart handed it to her. “I’ll see you when you get home.” She waited for the call to disconnect and tucked away her phone, watching him for his reaction. “Are you satisfied now?”

His eyes narrowed, “what harm does it do for me to know? It’s my kit after all.”

“You don’t get to make the choice on whether or not this is your kit to raise. As far as Murdoc knows, you hate him for keeping him.” She pushed between him and the door, gripping the handle as she continued, “he can’t know I told you.”

She left him standing on the front stairs, resting against the wood as she thought about the mess she’d just created. She went up to her room, picking up her guitar to vent until Murdoc came home to nap and update the kit’s book with her.

Stuart stepped down onto the concrete, dropping the butt of his cigarette to crush it under his heel. It would only take him twenty-five minutes to drive back from the hospital. Reaching into his pocket, he decided he could wait that long.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! I have a five day weekend and my first paper to write, so I thought I'd work up to a really frustrating paper on research ethics by finishing this chapter.   
> This chapter is unfortunately shorter than I usually can manage, but I just didn't want to skip to something else when I could have this end.

It felt a lot longer than twenty-five minutes, especially since he’d left his own phone on the arm of their peeling pleather sofa. Stuart pushed his bangs back in annoyance, _must be caught in traffic._ He huffed and went back to sit on the edge of the porch, legs hanging over the edge to rest on the lower steps.

It had been a week since he’d finally been told what the hell was wrong with the bassist. In that week he could see that Murdoc had no intention of giving him any more information about the kit. Noodle had made it sound like he was trying to protect it, but from them? From him?

His brow furrowed and he reached for his pockets, patting them in confusion before remembering he’d only brought the one smoke. He rested his head in his hand as he waited, trying to collect his thoughts.

He’d known Murdoc for two decades. Had lived with the bastard for at least half of them, willing or not. They’d had their fights, verbal and physical, over the years. The bassist had been the cause for most of them, instigating nearly constantly. While he couldn’t speak for Murdoc, he had never intended to cause serious or lasting harm to the man. They’d always moved past the disagreements, even when it took a few years.

So why was he so afraid of him now?

There were moments where they could sit together and nothing would go wrong. They could forget the past and share the same space. Stuart had been invited into Murdoc’s Winnebago that night and saw the bassist at his most vulnerable; even when he insisted that he had no memory of his breakdown Stuart had seen the way that he would glance over at him. Murdoc would let him re-watch his horror films with minimal comments about the quality of the makeup or acting.

Sometimes they sought out more. Desperate for something more meaningful than the one-night stands that usually sufficed, sealing themselves off when no one was looking. It hardly started out gentle, spastic hands groping for more to fill the holes that had developed. Bruising by hand and by mouth were all that would be left, easily covered by lies about birds and their bickering.

They’d never discussed their trysts.

They’d never _had_ to.

The door inched open. Thinking it was Noodle again he didn’t turn to face his bandmate. It wasn’t until he heard him clear his throat, “what do you think you’re doing?”

The singer rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue.

“This isn’t a good idea,” he offered, “not right now.”

“When would be a good time, Russ?” He shifted to face him fully, not standing from his spot on the broken steps.

Russel shook his head, taking a last glance at his screen before tucking his phone back into his pocket. He set his eyes on the fake exasperated look on Stuart’s face. “It’d be better for us all if you waited for him to talk to you, to talk to all of us.”

Stuart snorted, turning his back to the drummer, “When is that gonna happen?”

“I don’t know, but I know he’s going to get defensive if he sees you sitting out here ready to jump him.”

“That’s not what I’m doing!”

“That’s exactly what you’re doing,” Russel snapped back. He’d watched them take turns doing this for years, hunkering down and waiting for the other to fall into their trap. Now wasn’t the time. “It’s time for you both to act like grown-ass men. Stop fucking picking fights like children.”

Stuart pushed himself off the steps, standing on the cracked cement before turning to face Russel. “I’m not picking a fight! If it really is my kit don’t you think I oughta know about it?”

He couldn’t stop himself from chuckling. “That’s the worst fucking excuse I’ve ever heard.” He jabbed a thick finger into the center of the singer’s chest, pushing him back a bit. “ _You_ have never once cared to know about any of the kits you’re paying for. The most you’ve done is give them backstage passes and then ask them,” in a mockery of his accent, “’how was the show?’ You’ve don’t get to suddenly care because it’s Murdoc now.”

Dark blue brows furrowed as he glared up at his bandmate. “I get to care because: one, what matters is that it’s my kit, even if it’s number thirteen; and two, the band won’t be the same without him so we’re all fucked for our jobs.

“We’ll just find somebody to fill in for him if we have to. And for real, nobody believes this ‘I care’ bullshit you have about this kit. You only care because he’s not telling you shit.” Stuart started up the steps, but Russel immediately held his hand out and forced him to stand down. “If you want to prove me wrong then go inside and do something nice for him. Don’t pick fights.”

Stuart scoffed, stepping back and crossing his arms, “fine.”

“Promise me you won’t cause problems.”

Stuart shoved up past him and into the house.

He wasn’t going to make a promise that he was just going to break.


	11. Chapter 11

It wasn’t until ten minutes after Stuart had finally went to his room that he could hear a car pulled up to the curb. _So, Noodle was waiting for me._ He hummed and adjusted himself on his bed so that he was facing the open doorway.

He stopped scrolling through his phone when he heard people coming up the stairs, Noodle’s voice getting louder. He could make out that she was talking to Murdoc; she was talking about what she would make for dinner, asking if he’d be willing to eat with her downstairs tonight. The response was a hushed affirmation, conscious of who could be listening in.

There was the rustle of clothing and few more murmurs before the door to Murdoc’s room was opened. A step creaked as Noodle returned back downstairs once the door was shut with a click.

_Probably to chat with Russ some more._ He huffed as he rolled onto his back. It felt like the whole house was against him. It wasn’t Murdoc who needed to leave… it was him, but he wasn’t ready for that. To be forced out from what he was forced into was too much with so little time to prepare.

Russel’s words came to mind. He groaned, frustrated that the band would be watching him even more closely. Stuart lifted his phone back up to distract himself. He just barely got his thumb to the screen when he heard Murdoc’s door open. The sound of a plate setting on the hardwood had him rising up from his bed to peek out into the hall. His bed’s springs noisily expressing relief at the loss of his weight, but alerting the other to him.

He didn’t turn away though. He didn’t rush to shut the door. Mismatched eyes just stared awkwardly back at him for a moment before glancing back down to the plate.  
“Did you do that?”

Stuart bit his lip, nodding for a second before speaking, “Yeah, I did.”

Murdoc didn’t look up, but he hummed in surprise. The two slices of toast had been sitting on the edge of his dresser, his shit shoved aside haphazardly to make room. Noodle had left a sandwich or two in his room for when he returned from appointments, but she’d always told him they were there.

“He doesn’t really care for strawberry,” Murdoc admitted.

Stuart nodded again, cautiously. His mind almost blank as he tried to come up with something to say. Afterall, he wasn’t supposed to know anything.

“’S a boy then?”

Murdoc’s eyes blew up wide, and his head jerked up to look to Stuart, watching him as he leaned against the wall. Stuart could see his hand shift to press against the swell, something that must have been comforting as he stumbled to respond.

He started to nod, clearly uncomfortable, adjusting on his feet. “She told me today.”

Stuart smirked as he spoke, intending it to come off better than Murdoc perceived it, “Congratulations.” When he didn’t get the desired response, only getting a few more slow nods, he started to pull out from the conversation. As he turned back to his room he offered, “I won’t be going down to get dinner. I had a big lunch.”

Murdoc gave a small grunt, glancing back toward the stairs. He knew that Stuart was lying, and he didn’t appreciate the gesture. A grimace pulled at his lips when he looked back to the singer to see him standing in the doorway still. He was waiting for an answer.

“What are you standing there for? D’you want me to thank you?” He didn’t hide the slight snarl in his voice.

Stuart snorted, turning back to face him. “You know what? Yea, I do.”

The bassists face twisted at that. His nose scrunched in disgust at his attitude. His other hand clenching as he tried to hold himself back. 2D, despite how fans had come to view him, could be a right cocky bastard, and nothing got under Murdoc’s skin faster than the other man’s ego.

Murdoc huffed, fighting the temptation to knock the smug look from his features. “Why should I have to thank you?”

There were two ways he could have responded. He could just lay out the facts and be civil, but the attitude he was getting back from Murdoc had set him off. He only meant to take the first step, only to test the man, but he couldn’t stop himself when he’d seen how quickly he shrunk down. The way his eyes grew wide as he stood above him.

“I think I’ve finally paid off my debt to you, haven’t I?”

Murdoc gaped up at him, swallowing hard as he tried not to back away. He could feel his stomach turning, and he knew it wasn’t the kit. He couldn’t get out the words that were building on his tongue; they were trapped there as the other reached between them. A hushed gasp escaped him before he could stop it when those lanky fingers pressed against him.

“I think _this_ is a pretty fair exchange for my life.” He paused for a moment, resting his palm against the bottom of his belly, perhaps just a little too firmly. Continuing, he leaned in a little closer, bringing his mouth close to his ear, “I think you owe me now.”

He’d expected him to put up a fight, to push him or his hands away. Instead, the stubborn man was crumbling away in front of him, frozen in fear. His breathe was coming fast, unsteady. He could feel the way he was starting to tremble. He was, for the first time in nearly four decades, reduced down to what he really was… an omega.


End file.
